Sad Sunday

So fucking mad. Can’t get in touch with Goatee. I’ve called and texted repeatedly, but he hasn’t gotten back in touch.

HarryPotter rang Boobs and asked if she’d spoken with Goatee. In honesty, I was hoping HarryPotter would be more forthright and say something like, ‘We’ve found out it was NFEditor stealing from MNM. Goatee’s got the evidence. Have you spoken with him? No, you haven’t? Well, then that means he’s on the run with NFEditor.’

Instead the phone conversation went something like this, ‘Hey. Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I was kind of perchance just wondering if you might have maybe talked to [Goatee]? No? Right. Sorry for bothering you.’

What a fucking pansy. Sometimes I hate that he’s such a social git. He can lie well enough and tell everyone he’s sleeping with me — without even muttering the smallest stammer. But when it comes time for him to do something forthright he goes all geek awkward.

I had to take the matter into my own hands. I rang the police, who directed us to their website. Gee thanks. On the website I found information for those who are ‘a member of the business community or financial sector and wish advice or assistance about more complex frauds’. I think that would be our situation. I rang the number, but as it’s Sunday no one was around and I was directed to leave a message. Great!

I only had one thing left to do. I needed to go by Goatee’s house. Maybe he was home the whole time. Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I asked HarryPotter to come with me, but he refused. He said there was ‘no point’, but I said ‘I need to know what was going on.’ I couldn’t ‘just sit around.’

HarryPotter turned red, and I realised this had nothing to do with the fraudulent activities at MNM, this went back to the same old argument – my relationship with Goatee. HarryPotter was being oh so nonchalant about finding where Goatee had gone with the evidence, because he was glad Goatee had left.

‘Maybe this will finally make you realise what a fucking jerk this guy is. Maybe, finally, when he’s tricked you beyond belief, left you in the shit, and fucked you over so bad there’s a chance you could go to prison, maybe then you’ll finally stop harbouring feelings for him. Maybe this is a good thing.’

I couldn’t believe he said that. I screamed back, ‘You’d rather I was blamed and punished for something I didn’t do, just so you’re proven right!’

He calmed down for a moment and said that’s not what he meant. He said there was no way I’d be charged for anything. If we – a bunch of amateurs playing detective – could figure out that NFEditor was stealing (who, as we now know, is in cahoots with Goatee), the police would definitely figure it out. He added that, ‘I’m just glad he’s gone. I know that’s selfish. But I’m glad. They’ll catch him, and finally he’ll be out of your life.’ Then he shuffled around a bit and said, ‘Even if I never see you again, I’ll be happy to know that that piece of scum isn’t wrecking your life any longer.’

I was so angry. I know he had the best intentions. I know he meant well, but all I could hear was ‘I, HarryPotter, am meddling in your life. I know what’s best for you.’

I stormed out the house and went to Goatee’s. I had to see if he was there. I was hoping, praying, he was there. If he were at his house, it would mean he’s not a thieving, lying, piece of shit who’s been cavorting with the most evil person on the face of the earth and dumping me in the shit. And more importantly, if he were home, it meant everything that happened between Goatee and I was real, not just a sham. If Goatee were home, it would mean I was not the most idiotic gullible person on the face of the earth.

I’m sorry to say he wasn’t home.

But I had hope. Perhaps he was just out. Perhaps he’d been speaking to the police this whole time. Perhaps he was out clearing my name. So, I decided to wait, right there on his doorstep.

I even called the woman I used to babysit for to see if she’d heard from him. She said she hadn’t spoken to him for a couple of weeks, and she began to ask why I was enquiring, but I hung up the phone before she could finish her sentence.

I thought about calling Goatee’s brother, but I didn’t have the number. I could go to GoateeBrother’s house, but what if I missed Goatee coming home. No, all I could do was wait. 

I sat on that doorstep for five hours today. I’m not kidding. I did. I actually sat on that doorstep for five hours. Well, I walked about a bit, and tried to see if I could get into Goatee’s house a few times, but without breaking a window, I didn’t see a way in. I knocked on the neighbours’ doors, but they hadn’t seen him either. Sitting there was actually good for me. A little contemplative. I thought about the last six months, what I wanted to do with my life. What I would do if I didn’t get the job? What I would do if I did get the job? How did I want HarryPotter to fit into all this?

I dozed off after dark and was woken by a hand on my shoulder. Hoping it was Goatee, I opened my eyes with a smile, but it was HarryPotter. I didn’t mean to, but I started sobbing. I knew what this meant. I had been a fool.

He sat down on the step with me and let me cry into his shoulder. After a bit we went home, and he never once said, ‘I told you so’, which I’m very grateful for.

Tomorrow, we’re both going into the office and talk to Boobs, and then go to the police from there. I know that there’s no way I’ll be implicated in any of this (although, I might have to give back my £200 ‘Christmas bonus’), so that’s a positive. I just wish I wasn’t such a chump.


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